photo: Stephan Wita
At first it looks completely normal. Smiling at you, looking like the big city next door. Then, one day, it happens: The crazy comes out.
And I’m not talking about the good kind of party-night-life-crazy. I am talking literally insane. I am talking about one of these days where it seems Berlin is only inhabited by lunatics. The cyclops of the city crawl out and start coming after you. The city loses itself in a constant rambling and shoving and you start asking yourself, where all these maniacs emerged from? You’ve all seen them, mumbling in the metro, gazing at you in the shop, yelling at you on the street.
‚What did I do?‘ you will ask yourself. ‚Did this old man in a genie outfit just point at me and put a spell on me?‘ ‚Did this woman just urinate in the supermarket?‘ ‚What is this man doing in his dirty underpants, scaring people on the street?‘
But even more important: ‚Am I one of them? Am I the psychotic one here?‘ Truth is, both is accurate, probably. Some days, you’ll find that Berlin drives you crazy. And some days you’ll understand why. And you will still love it, despite or even because all of it’s nuttiness.
